Golden Flecks

9:00 AM 

I stand, staring at the person in front of me. She is tall, with dark brown hair, and green eyes. She wears combat boots, ripped jeans, and an oversized band t-shirt. She is beautiful. "Hey, are you okay?" She asks.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Just, confused." I reply, dazed. 

"Sorry, I was just wondering if you were going to the party tonight." She looks at me with her wide, green eyes, a small smile on her face. I have no idea what she's talking about so I tuck a strand of blonde hair behind my ear and look up at her.

 "Oh, the party," I lie smoothly, or at least I hope it sounds smooth. I can't tell with my heart hammering against my ribs. "Right. Yeah. I'm just... thinking about whether I should go." 

"Oh. Well, you should definitely go, It'll be fun." She smiles at me encouragingly and I nod, hoping she might give me any clue as to what she's talking about, or who she is. She holds my gaze for a second, and my panic is replaced entirely by the awareness of how close she is. Up close, I can see the scattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose, like tiny constellations across her pale skin. I could see now that her eyes weren't just solid green, but had tiny flecks of gold near the irises, like sunlight through trees. 

"Yeah, fun." I say, the words feel empty. I shift my weight, trying to sneak a glance at her pockets looking for a student ID, key ring, anything that'll tell me who this beautiful girl is. 

Before she turns she says, "I'll meet you there at nine." Then she walks away. I stare after her, confused, until the back of her t-shirt fades into the crowd. I stand frozen as the crowd swallows her up, I'll meet you there at nine echoing in my head. Nine o' clock. No location. No name. 

I look at myself, suddenly hyper-aware of what i'm wearing. Like her, i'm wearing an oversized, faded band tee—mine is a washed-out Nirvana shirt— under an oversized red and black flannel. My thrifted black jeans are frayed at the hems and stop just above my scuffed high-top converse. I pull out my phone and open the camera app, my blonde shoulder-length hair is messy and frames my round face. My light green eyes look wide and nervous, and my heart still threatens to jump out of my chest.

 "Hey, Alice!" A voice calls, as someone slings their arm across my shoulders. I jump, startled. 

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" I ask, smiling. There's a slight tremor to my voice, and my heart is thumping all over again. "You scared me." 

Sam notices my wide eyes and trembling voice as I slip my phone back into my pocket. "Whoa, Alice, you look like you just saw a ghost." He squeezes my shoulders and drops his arm, following my gaze into the crowd of people. "What're you staring at?" 

"Nothing," I lie quickly, clearing my throat. "Just, zoned out." 

"Right." Sam says, not sounding entirely convinced. He adjusts the strap of his backpack, his hazel eyes scanning my face. "Well, are we going to class, or are you still frozen in time?" 

I stay rooted to the spot for a moment, thinking. I'll meet you there at nine. Where exactly is there?

"Earth to Alice!" Sam calls out, waving a hand from the concrete steps of the school.

"Coming!" I yell, as I jog up to him, the mystery of the girl heavy in my chest. I need to figure out what's going on before the clock strikes nine.

12:30 AM

The concrete steps of the school feel heavy under my feet as I catch up with Sam. The blazing noon sun beats down on us, another reminder that I only have eight and a half hours to figure out who that girl was, and what party she was talking about. We find a picnic table in a shaded area and sit down. I pick at the crust of my sandwich, my appetite already gone. Across the table, Sam is happily devouring a bag of chips. He's been my best friend since middle school, usually able to read me like an open book, which is why keeping the interaction is incredibly hard.

"Earth to Alice, part 2," Sam says around a mouthful of chips. He points one at me. "You've been staring at the same spot for ten minutes. And you barely touched your food. What's going on with you today?"

"Nothing, just stressed about the science quiz later." I say, forcing a smile.

"Right. Because science usually makes you look like you're trying to solve a murder. C'mon, talk to me."

I stare at him for a second, not sure how to explain this. Hey Sam, a totally gorgeous stranger gave me a cryptic rendezvous time, and now i'm having a mini crisis. "Okay, it's not just the quiz. I had a really weird dream and now it's stuck in my head." I lie.

Sam stops chewing and wipes his salt-dusted fingers on the front of his jeans. He narrows his eyes in a show of mock-suspicion. "A weird dream. Alice, you have dreams about talking animals and failing math. You don't look like this over a night of bad sleep. C'mon, who is he?"

"Who says it's a he?" The words slip out before I can stop them.

Sam raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin sliding across his face. He leans across the picnic table, elbows resting on the plastic surface. "Ah, so it's a she. Go on, details."

"It's not like that," I say, cheeks burning hotter than the afternoon sun. I pick off pieces of my sandwich crust, rolling them in-between my fingers. "I don't even know her name. She just, stopped me outside before first period."

Sam's grin widens, his hazel eyes lighting up mischievously. "A mystery girl. The plot thickens. What did she say? Did she sweep you off your feet? Give you a poetic riddle?"

"She asked if I was going to the party tonight." I mutter, now thoroughly embarrassed. "And then she said, 'I'll meet you there at nine.' Then she just walked off."

Sam blinks expectantly. When I don't continue, his smile fades into a look of genuine confusion."That's it? No location? No 'hey, by the way, my name is Jenna?"

"Nothing." I groan and lay my head down on the picnic table. "And the worst part is, I was too nervous to do anything. I just nodded and played along. I don't even know what she's talking about. Do you know about any parties tonight? It's a Friday, but it's only the first week of the second semester."

Sam hums, tapping his arm thoughtfully. "Well, let's think about this. If she's talking to you like it's something you should already know, either it's a massive school-wide thing, or it's something specific. Possibly a group she thinks you're in." He gestures to my flannel and band tee. "The Indie crowd? Art kids?"

I lift my head to look at him. "Do the art kids usually throw parties at nine o'clock on Fridays?"

"Usually in abandoned warehouses or someone's basement." Sam says, leaning back. "Look, we have a few hours. Let's look at the clues. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, combat boots. Sounds like a lot of girls here, Alice."

"She has gold flecks in her eyes." I say vividly remembering the way the sunlight caught her irises, the constellations of freckles across her nose. My stomach flips thinking about it, about her. "And she was wearing a band tee, too. An oversized, vintage, Metallica one." I sigh, dreamily.

Sam stares at me for a few seconds, a soft, sympathetic, smile taking over his teasing grin. "Wow. You've got it bad, don't you? You talked to her for thirty seconds."

"I just... I need to find her, Sam. If I don't show up at nine, she'll think I stood her up. Or worse, that I don't care. I can't do that, no matter who she thinks I am." I check my phone, 12:48 PM. The clock is ticking.

"Okay." Sam claps his hands together as he stands up. "First step: science test. Second step: we investigate. I'll ask the guys on the soccer team if they've heard anything about a party. You check out the art wing during your free period."

As the bell rings, marking the end of the period, we grab our stuff, throw our trash away, and head towards the front doors. Somewhere in this school of over a thousand students, a girl with gold-flecked irises is expecting to see me tonight. I just have to figure out where.

2:30

It just so happens that my free period is during the last class of the day. I pack my backpack, and head in the direction of the art wing. I'm not exactly sure what I'll do when I get there, but I know that I need to know where to meet this beautiful stranger. I push through the doors to the art wing, the smells of clay and acrylic paint hitting me instantly. This hallway is quieter than the rest of the building, only a couple people are talking, the rest are cleaning easels and wiping down tables. I pretend to look at a painting displayed on the wall while my eyes scan the bulletin boards beside me.

Taped in the middle of a bulletin board to my right is a bright orange flyer. Hand-drawn writing spells out: THE OLD MILL WAREHOUSE. FRIDAY, 9 PM. Beneath the lettering is a doodle of a skull wearing headphones. My heart is pounding, this is it. I pull out my phone, and snap a picture.

"Passings over in five minutes. You heading out or making art?" Asks Mr. Harrison, the 3D art teacher.

"I'm just heading out now." I tell him. I send a picture of the flyer to Sam, and put my phone back into my pocket. I get to the front doors just as I feel my phone vibrate. Sam is waiting outside, leaning against the brick building, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. I nod and show him the photo on my phone.

Sam whistles, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. "Looks like we have a destination.The guys on the team said they also heard rumors about the party."

8:00 PM

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing my hair for the third time tonight. Sam knocks on my bedroom door and I walk over to let him in. "Hey." I say, nervous.

Sam pushes the door open fully, and takes a good look at me. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"You're still in your sweatpants," Sam points out. "Alice, it's almost eight o'clock. We have to leave in thirty minutes if we want to get to the warehouse on time, and you look like you're getting ready for a movie marathon, not a secret warehouse party."

The bedroom door clicks shut behind Sam, the sound sharp and final in the quiet room."I'm having second thoughts, Sam." I admit, dropping onto the edge of my bed and burying my face in my hands. "What if I got this completely wrong? What if the flyer is for a different party? What if she realizes I'm not who she thought I was the second I walk through the door?"

Sam walks over and drops down on the mattress beside me, the bed dipping under his weight. He doesn't tease me this time, instead he reaches out and nudges my shoulder. I take my head out of my hands and look at him.

"Alice, look at me," Sam says, his voice unusually gentle."You're overthinking this. So what if she mistook you for someone else at first? She stopped you. She looked into your eyes, saw your flannel and band tee and decided she wanted to see you tonight.You really think a girl with gold flecked eyes and a vintage Metallica shirt is going to turn you away because you didn't fit into some secret script?"

I let out a shaky breath. "But what if I embarrass myself, Sam? I froze up this morning and just nodded like a broken bobblehead."

"And here you are, having successfully tracked down a secret warehouse party like a literal detective," Sam counters, a grin sliding onto his face. He walks over to my closet and flings the door open. He rummages through the hangers for a few seconds before pulling out my favorite dark blue denim jacket and black graphic tee. He tosses them on the bed next to me and smiles. "Now, no more stalling. Put on some actual pants. We are going to this party, we are finding Mystery Girl, and you are going to charm her socks off. Or, you know, at least manage a full sentence this time."

A small laugh escapes my throat, a bit of anxiety with it. "Okay, okay, now get out so I can change."

"Thirty minutes Alice! The clock is ticking!" Sam yells as he shuts my bedroom door.

By 8:40, Sam and I are both ready and in the car. The heater is blasting against the cool, fall air. The warehouse is all the way on the other side of town and I message my parents so they know where I am. We pull into a gravel lot a block away from the warehouse. The music is loud enough that I can hear the thump of the bass and muffled lyrics. Groups of people, some I know, and some I don't, are walking towards a heavy metal door.

"This is it." Sam says, turning off the ignition, his hazel eyes brimming with excitement. "Are you ready?"

My stomach flips and I take a deep breath, gripping my bag. "Ready as I'll ever be."

We step out of the car into the cold night air and walk towards the entrance. The music grows clearer with every step, and I can almost feel the bass. As soon as we push open the metal doors, the atmosphere changes. The warehouse is huge and dark, lit only by strings of colored fairy lights and a couple cheap strobe lights near the DJ. Smoke hangs in the air smelling of cheap cologne and wet concrete.

It's way more crowded than I thought it would be. Sam wraps an arm around my waist and guides me through the crowd. I'm scanning the crowd for any sign of her, looking for dark hair and combat boots. Sam moves his arm from my waist to my arm and stops me near a stack of wood. He points toward the far right corner right by a flickering neon exit sign. I follow the line of Sams finger and my stomach flips.

There she is.

She looks exactly as she did this morning. Her Metallica shirt is tucked in on one end into her black high-waisted jeans. Her combat boots are crossed at her ankles as she leans against the wall, red solo cup in hand. She's laughing at something a guy in a backwards baseball cap is saying. She looks beautiful. My stomach flips again, and my heart speeds up.

"Go," Sam urges, his voice cutting through the thumping bass. He gives me a gentle shove forward. "Before you look like a broken bobblehead."

"Aren't you coming with me?" I ask, terrified of crossing the space between her and I.

"And ruin your romantic mystery plot? Absolutely not," Sam grins, already backing away towards the crowd. "I'm going to find a drink. If you get rejected, I'll be the guy over by the speakers pretending I don't know you." He winks and then disappears into the crowd.

I'm all alone now. I take a deep breath, smoothing down my denim jacket.The bass is so loud it's making the floor vibrate, matching the frantic rhythm of my pulse. I start walking before my brain can come up with a reason to stall. As I get closer, the guy in the baseball cap waves goodbye and disappears onto the dance floor. It's just her now. She takes a sip from her cup, scanning the crowd as she does. Then, she freezes. Her eyes lock onto me.

The gold flecks in her eyes seem to catch the flickering neon sign beside us. For a second, my anxiety screams, saying that she's going to look confused, look past me, or laugh at me. But instead, a slow, genuine smile spreads across her face. She sets her cup down on a nearby crate and takes a step towards me, meeting me halfway.

"You actually came, I was starting to think you didn't figure out the flyer." She smiles, her voice cutting through the music. Up close, she smells like vanilla and leather.

My throat feels dry, but I remember Sam's words. Manage an actual sentence. "It took some investigating," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "But I couldn't pass up a secret party, or a chance to prove I can actually speak."

Her smile widens, crinkling at the corners. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you, I'm Val, by the way."

"Alice," I reply finally letting out the breath I've been holding since eight o' clock.

She tilts her head."Well, Alice, now that you're here, let me show you around the place before it gets shut down by the cops." She extends her hand to me, an open invitation.

I look down at her outstretched hand, my heart doing a nervous flip. Her fingers are adorned with silver rings, and she has a smudge of black paint on her hand. I don't hesitate this time, I slide my hand into hers. Her grip is warm and steady as opposed to the chaotic energy vibrating through the rest of the warehouse.

"Lead the way," I say, raising my voice slightly so she can hear me over the music.

Val leads me through the sea of people, with her here it seems to be a lot easier. She guides me towards the back of the warehouse, away from the crowd of people, to a makeshift drink station. It's two folding tables loaded with coolers and two liter-bottles, where I spot Sam out of the corner of my eye. True to his word, he stands by the speakers, laughing with a group of people. He catches me looking, sees our joined hands, and gives me a huge thumbs up and goes back to his conversation. I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.

Val leads me up a flight of old metal stairs that leads to an old, graffiti-covered, balcony that overlooks the whole floor. Up here, the air is cooler, and the music is quiet enough to speak normally. She walks over to the rusty railing and leans her forearms against it, looking down at the people below. I mirror her, our shoulders brushing.

"Best view in the house," Val says, her voice closer to my ear now.

"It's incredible," I admit, looking over the strings of fairy lights and smiling. "Do they throw parties here often?"

"Only until the landlord notices the locks being picked or someone calls in a noise complaint," she laughs, turning her back to the railing so that she's facing me. She rests her chin in her hand, studying my face with an open, curious expression. "So, Alice, you don't seem like the underground rave type, what brought you down here tonight? Other than proving you can talk of course."

The directness of her gaze makes my cheeks burn, but the steady warmth of the interaction makes it easier to answer. "Maybe I just wanted a little adventure, or maybe I just wanted to see if the girl with the Metallica t-shirt was as cool as she seemed this morning."

Val lets out a soft, genuine laugh. "For the record, I'm usually a lot cooler when I haven't been up since five AM studying for a science test." She reaches out, her hand brushing against the sleeve of my denim jacket before settling back on the railing just inches from mine. "But I'm really glad you came, Alice."

I look down at our hands, just inches apart and the last of my nervous tension slides away. "Me too," I say softly, the honesty of it surprising even myself.

She straightens up from the railing, the neon light catching the silver rings on her fingers as she motions toward a heavy, unmarked door. "Come on, there's one more thing I wanted to show you before the inevitably flashing blue lights ruin the vibe."

She doesn't reach for my hand this time, but she walks close enough that our arms brush with every step. She pushes the heavy door open, and we step out of the warehouse and onto a fire escape bathed in cool, silver moonlight. The city skyline stretches out before us, a sprawling grid of amber and white lights under a star-strewn sky. The bass from inside has been reduced to a steady, rhythmic heartbeat against the wall.

Val walks up to the edge of the platform and takes a deep breath of the crisp air. "Better than the inside view, honestly."

I walk up beside her, looking out at the moonlit city. The contrast is sharp-the chaotic energy of the party on the other side of the wall, and this vast, quiet stillness right in front of us. "It's beautiful," I whisper.

"Yeah," Val says softly. But when I turn to look at her, she isn't looking at the skyline. She's looking at me, gold flecks dancing in her eyes. "It really is."

The space between us feels charged, the cool night breeze ruffling my denim jacket, but the warmth from Val keeps the cold at bay. My heart, which had been hammering frantically all night finally steadies into something normal, something real.

"You're doing that thing again," Val says a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"What thing?" I ask, my voice barely louder than a breath.

"Holding your breath," she says gently. She steps a fraction closer, closing the remaining distance between us.The scent of vanilla wraps around me again, grounded and comforting against the backdrop of the sleeping city. "You don't have to be nervous with me, Alice, I don't bite. Unless were talking about pizza, then all bets are off."

A genuine laugh escapes me, breaking the spell of sudden shyness."Good to know, I'll keep my distance during dinner."

"Smart move," She chuckles. She turns her head towards the horizon, leaning against the railing again. "You know, usually I hate these things. The noise, the crowd, the guy in the baseball cap who won't stop talking about himself." She rolls her eyes, making me smile. "But tonight, I kept looking at the door hoping that you'd walk through."

"Sam said I'd regret it if I didn't." I admit, looking down at my shoes and them back up at her. The moonlight catches the sharp angle of her jaw, and the messy fringe of her dark hair. "But, I know I already wanted to come, I just needed a little push."

Val turns her head, expression softening. "Then I'm glad Sam is a good friend." She reaches out, her fingers lightly brushing against mine before slipping into my hand, echoing the way she held it inside the warehouse. This time though, it feels different. It isn't a guide; its an anchor.

We stand there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the muffled music from inside the warehouse, and watching distant headlights crawl across a bridge miles away. I feel entirely at peace.

Suddenly, the metal door behind us clicks open.

Sam pokes his head out, his eyes wide, "Hey lovebirds, the cops aren't here yet, but the pizza just arrived."

Val lets out a quick, amused sigh and rolls her eyes. She squeezes my hand one last time and yells "Tell them to save us a slice, we're coming!"

I step forward and lead her back into the party.